(you show me) Home
by midcookedpizza
Summary: The one in which Peter Quill goes home. Or the one wherein Peter Quill finds his home.


"And that one, right there, is called Virgo!" he pointed towards another cluster of stars, redirecting his companion's eyesight.

Gamora's eyes flitted to the cluster of stars twinkling above them, not really understanding half of what Quill was saying. It was all just babbled nonsense, a bubbly soundtrack that warmed her heart as she lay on the grass and observed the explosion of stars that lay out above them.

She'd fallen in love with the Milky Way as soon as she'd laid eyes on it. Be that the fact that it was Quill's home or the very characteristics of the galaxy; the way the stars rippled across lakes in the illumination of the moonlight. The way that darkness fully crept over the nights sky, blanketing the world with a warm chill that was perfect for hot chocolate and storytimes.

And apparently, observing the stars.

Gamora had never seen such beauty in all her life - though she wondered whether that was such a feat. Having been trapped in the confines of a prison her entire life, the skyline had always been dominated by towering buildings and neon lights that never slept, a hustle and bustle that swept across the city and replaced the stars with work stress. Gamora''s eyes momentarily wandered to the boy beside her.

Peter Quill truly was something extraordinary.

He gazed up at the magnificence of stars with awe, and they stared right down back at him, supernovas and shooting stars captivating themselves inside his depthless eyes that rippled with unfathomable wonder. All the scenes in the world, all the places to be, wouldn't have been better than this moment. This moment in which nothing else existed sans for the galaxy and the boy beside her, who seemed to be one with the stars; born of light and goodness, an explosion of colour upon a blank canvas.

A spot of emotion bleeding through his visage at the familiarity that he hadn't touched in decades, a flicker of pain that collapsed like a shooting star, dissipating into awe at the stars above him as he lay on a planet that was so… ordinary to him yet so _different._

He leaned back, relaxing slightly as he allowed his eyes to trace the shapes and outlines of the stars. A trail of cosmic glitter; a smattering of fairy dust that had been sprinkled across the blanket of darkness that was night. It was comforting. Somewhat.

He was the excitement of dancing stars, hell, he was a star in human form; celestial. Something of a protostar; a star in its earliest stages, the formation. But he was also the cataclysmic end of a star, a shooting star whose happiness had been a wavering line that dipped into awkward sadness, a constellation of uneven stars.

And so despite the fact that it was most definitely freezing, and that Gamora and Quill had both chose to forsake the warmth of their tent and instead chose to sleep under a starlit ceiling. Despite the fact that their hot chocolates had long been drank and the only source of warmth was their sleeping bags and the lilting warmth that emanated from Quill's very voice, Gamora was comforted.

Be it from the open stars, the fresh air filled with illustrious stars tracing pictures in the blackness of night, or the jovial narrative of the boy seated beside her. Quill was huddled in his own sleeping bag with a smile resting on his lips and his knees drawn up closely to him, reducing his size to nothing but a pea in a pod. An image of the boy he used to be all those years ago.

"When I was younger, I used to tell my mom that I wanted to see them all one day," Quill''s voice once more. Dropping several decibels and rather suiting his posture, closed up and quiet, almost uncertain.

"The stars." Quill pointed to them in response to Gamora's silence, and allowed a sigh to pass from parted lips. "I'd tell her that one day, I'd see them all. I'd take her to see them."

Gamora said nothing, allowing a few seconds to pass between the two, the silence doing all the talking necessary for them as she shifted. An awkward limb feebly went over his shoulders, drawing them closer to each other, the hint of a helplessly beautiful smile resting on her defined cheeks, features so distinct and beautiful.

"She'd be proud of you if she could see you now, then," Gamora said, bashful and low.

Quill raised his face to her's; eye to eye as he pondered her words.

"I feel bad though," he said, "like I've lied to her. I- I wanted to show her all the amazing places, and sometimes it… it hurts, you know? Knowing that I'm here, I'm able to see everything that I ever dreamt of as a child and she's… she's not."

Simple. Stumbling over words and rushed pace, biting his lip and looking from the stars above to the female beside him.

"I know," Gamora murmured, "but it's- she'd be proud of you, so proud of you, Star-lord. We're here for you, just as you're here for us, Quill. Don't forget that. We're your family, sort of. So we're stuck with you regardless."

A smile slipped onto his face, weak yet radiant, a sort of celestial glow to his face that reminded her of the constellations that were resting above their heads.

"I mess up a lot, though."

"As do we all - especially you, Terran," a pause, and Quill couldn't help but laugh and lazily roll his eyes in response, "but she'd still be proud, regardless. Who wouldn't be proud of someone who's achieved all his childhood goals and dreams?"

"Since when did you get so good at words?" Quill looked to her, quasi-confusion clouding over his blue eyes as he allowed the smile to remain pasted on his lips.

"Since when did _you_ get so emotional, Peter Quill?" she quipped.

"Since when did _you_ guys learn about being quiet and _respectful_ for others when they're sleeping?" Rocket's voice piped up from the distance.

"I am Groot,"

"Shut up you two!" Drax yelled, though whether he was referencing Gamora and Quill or Rocket and Groot was another question.

" _Sleep_ ," Mantis.

And then, the silence fell into an organised sort of chaos. The sort that was homely and familial, a soothing blanket that covered them both despite the dropping Terran temperatures. And beneath the dusty, star-flecked sky and the purple blanket of night, there was contentment.

And Peter Quill realised that maybe, maybe Gamora was correct in that they were a family as such. One that had been plucked by the hands of none other than fate itself; a mixture of species across an entire galaxy each from different walks of life. Paths of life that had at some point intertwined with eachother, converging into one long road that all of them walked upon now.

And Peter Quill realised that maybe, maybe he had a family here. That despite the fact that he had only just returned to his home, he'd had a home this entire time. A home made from the most dysfunctionally functional family that ever existed within the galaxies that they existed.


End file.
